


Turning the Tide

by Daegaer



Series: Captain Crowley [12]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1940, Angels, Angst, Battle of Britain, Demons, Friendship, Gen, Love, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-01
Updated: 2005-07-01
Packaged: 2019-08-08 21:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16437431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Crowley doesn't stop fighting.





	Turning the Tide

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://gehayi.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://gehayi.livejournal.com/)**gehayi** , who wondered what A and C were up to in the Battle of Britain:

"Are you _insane_?" Aziraphale yelled. "Have you finally gone bloody mad, you bloody idiot?"

"You're swearing," Crowley said in surprise.

"I don't bloody swear, I'm just asking you a bloody question!"

"I'm never taking you to my officers' club again," Crowley muttered. "Blessed angels, don't know how to behave in public. Shut up and have a drink. It's the last one we'll be sharing for a while."

Aziraphale shut up, and contented himself with glaring at Crowley over the rim of his glass. "You could be _killed_ ," he hissed after a few sips.

"Can't be killed," Crowley pointed out absently. "Just really badly hurt and slapped on the wrist for damaging equipment."

"You could be really badly hurt," Aziraphale said worriedly. He leaned forwards, whispering, " _Crowley_ , don't do this. _Please_. Maybe you don't want to remember, but think what you were like twenty years ago--"

"Shut," Crowley said icily, "up."

Aziraphale sat back, looking miserable. After a moment he miracled his glass full of a better Scotch, and drank deeply.

"I figured out the Bentley quickly enough," Crowley said in a determinedly cheerful voice. "A Spitfire can't be _that_ difficult. And I have a natural aptitude for flight, let's be honest."

"Why are you _doing_ this?" Airaphale groaned, as Crowley checked the time and stood.

"Because, dear boy," Crowley said in an all-too-accurate impersonation of Aziraphale's accent, "if I don't get up there with the rest of my squadron, Jerry will overrun the dashed country." He bent down, putting a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder. "I _like_ this country," he hissed, "I like these people. I'm not letting bloody ancient history get in the way of me stopping them getting invaded." He put on his cap and sketched a salute. "Pip-pip, old boy. See you later."

"You'd better," Aziraphale said glumly, watching him leave. "You'd better."


End file.
